I give my innocence to you
by FlopsyOllie
Summary: Puck convinces Quinn to go to a retreat for teenage mothers who gave up their children for adoption. Takes place over Christmas break of senior year.  Quinn focus with a bit of Quick  - Oneshot


_Puck convinces Quinn to go to a retreat for teenage mothers who gave up their children for adoption. Takes place over Christmas break of senior year. This is just me trying to explore what Quinn had to go through to turn her life around – after Hold onto Sixteen she pretty much did a 180 and here I attempt to explain some of that. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>I give my innocence to you<strong>

Once again, here she finds herself without an identity, grasping for some sort of hold on an image she can't quite fit into.

It's always been about an image, what image she doesn't know, and she'll keep searching for it until she's whole. The problem is, she just can't find the answers she needs. Quinn Fabray used to be a good girl, a daddy's girl, a mean girl, a cheerleader, a saint. Then she was the pregnant girl. She tried to be a good girl again. She tried to be a bad girl. She tried to erase her mistakes and she tried to claim them. Nothing worked. Nothing ever works. She's finally found herself at a loss with nowhere to go.

They won sectionals. Everyone couldn't be happier, except for her and she doesn't know why. She _should _be happy, but she's not.

In all honesty, she misses Beth. She's missed Beth for a long, long time, longer than she'd ever admit. It's confusing, because Quinn gave Beth up a year and a half ago. Giving her up means giving up the memories, too. Giving her up means she's not supposed to care.

She wants to see her but she can't see her anymore, and she can't see Puck because he reminds him of her, even though they've been talking since the beginning of the year, but that was all crazy talk about getting Beth back. She can't talk to anyone. No one understands. So she spends most of her time alone. She doesn't talk about it. She sits up all night staring at the darkness, wondering why she has to be so sad. Wondering why she has to care about a person she doesn't even know, why she has to care about anything at all.

If she's sure of one thing, it's that she's looking forward to winter break. Two whole weeks of emptiness, and though she's tired of being lonely, she'll welcome the chance to get away from all the work, pressure, and judgment. No glee club to get through, no tests to study for, and no Shelby to avoid.

She'll be stuck at home with her overbearing mother, decorating the Christmas tree once again without her father – he refuses to visit. They haven't spoken since shortly after Quinn gave Beth away. She deserves it because she failed him. They won't be exchanging presents. She won't be attending church on Christmas Eve. She'll sit at home, day after day, probably thinking about Beth or the fact that she'll probably never get into college, and therefore never get out of here, something she always knew. Failures don't fly. They sit on the ground.

Puck, however, seems to have other plans.

Since Shelby and Beth came back, they've been on speaking terms, maybe even friends. He's seen more in her than she could ever say out loud, and she isn't sure how she feels about that, but she'll take it. He's one less person she has to cope with because he understands, at least a little bit. He understands what it's like to love a person who isn't yours, who you'll never have. Yet she still pushed him away after Beth was born, though she doesn't remember why. It just seemed less painful.

After the fiasco of getting her back subsided, they still talked. She still hasn't forgiven him for sleeping with Shelby, and maybe she never will. She hasn't forgiven him for being better at coping with the adoption because she's jealous and it makes her angry. She hasn't forgiven anyone for anything, really.

He approaches her in between classes. Quinn peeks out from behind her locker door, physics book in hand, "Hey, Puck."

"Hey. I, um, wanted to give you something."

She has absolutely no idea what sort of gift he could have until he pulls a pamphlet out of his pocket.

"I know you've been pretty upset lately," he continues, looking down bashfully, "And I know it's been tough having Beth around…"

"I haven't-"

"You're just not yourself anymore," he cuts her off, pressing the brochure into her hands, "It's for a retreat, for moms who gave their kids up for adoption. It's to help you deal with it. It's for three days over break, and there's counselors there and stuff. Like summer camp, except with snow."

"And you want me to go?" she looks at him quizzically. Why would he even think she needs this? How could he know…?

"I think it would help. I know you're sad… I still get sad too, sometimes, but I dealt with it. I took a break from all this shit and let it go. You never gave yourself a break, Quinn. You just dove right back into it headfirst… I mean, you tried to fix yourself when there was nothing to fix."

She doesn't really know what to say, so she stands there at her locker, mouth agape. He's right. She never did stop running. She just never knew he cared so much.

"I just want you to be happy again, like before, like the girl I…" he shakes his head, clearing his throat because neither of them deal well with feelings, "Never mind. Just please don't hate me."

"No… I… thanks, Puck. I didn't know you cared so much."

" 'Course I care," he grins, "You're just finally sane enough to realize it."

…

_Adoption is an emotional process no one should face alone, especially the aftermath. Many women struggle with the absence of their children. Did I really give him/her a better life? Could I have done it? Am I selfish?_

_These are normal yet painful questions, and sometimes we need support. This is what this retreat is for. You'll be surrounded by fellow biological mothers who understand your struggles, along with therapists professionally trained to help you through the process of healing…_

The pamphlet sounds high and mighty in a soothing way, like a monk or an educational video for preteens. Quinn can't say it sounds terrible. She can actually relate to the questions and stories. Maybe it would even help. She _does _want to feel better about this, doesn't she?

Her mother reads it over dinner. It's not too expensive. They call and sign up, Judy on her cell phone as Quinn paces back and forth. She'll drive her out to the retreat the first Thursday of break, after Christmas. Three days with other people just like her. Ideally, she'll come back changed. Brand new. Healed.

The idea almost makes her scoff at her reflection as she gets ready for bed. She _wants_ to heal; she just can't remember how. That's what this is for, isn't it?

She remembers Puck's words as she drifts off to sleep (_I want you to be happy like the girl I…_) and wonders what he meant. She takes comfort in the fact that he cares. She hopes he's right about all this, and maybe when it's over and done with, they can be healed together.

…

The retreat is held down a long dirt road at an old farmhouse, painted blue. She watches the relic appear over a hill, car clunking through the potholes iced with snow as her mother grips the steering wheel, sliding into the driveway and parking near the front steps leading to a wrap-around porch. Smoke billows out of the chimney, three stories up. Quinn pulls her suitcase out of the backseat and stares up at the gray sky, cut by the tile roof and the picture glass windows.

Inside is as cozy as could be. It's a real house, not some sort of hospital. Soggy boots are strewn across the welcome mat. A sitting room holds a fireplace with figurines over the mantle. There's a real kitchen with real food. Laughter floats down the stairwell. It smells like pine and fresh snowfall.

"Hello!" An older woman with curly hair pops out from the kitchen into the entryway, a mountain of files in hand, "Welcome to the retreat! And you are…?"

"Quinn Fabray," she smiles nervously, and the woman smiles right back, sticking out a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Quinn. I'm Laura, and it just so happens I'll be your personal counselor for the next few days. I also handle all the paperwork, as you can see. So how about Mom fills this out while I show you to your room?"

She suddenly feels like a little girl being whisked away at camp, but her mother gently nudges her along, sitting down at the kitchen table, so Quinn takes her bag and follows Laura up two flights of stairs.

The second and third floors are similar in layout. Each has a bathroom and six bedrooms. Laura explains that there are two residents to a room and two counselors stay on each floor. The first floor has a living room, kitchen, dining room, office, bathroom, and a pantry. The pamphlet wasn't kidding when it said the retreat was held in a "spacious, furnished, traditional farmhouse."

"You'll get used to sharing. Prepares you for life at college," Laura winks as they reach the third floor. Quinn doesn't bother telling her she doesn't think she deserves to go to college, or the fact that she shared far too many rooms during her temporary homelessness while she was pregnant.

The room at the end of the hall is hers. There are two beds, two dressers, two lamps, and two windows. Her window overlooks pasture and a faded red barn covered in snow. The bed has a soft purple quilt. Her roommate has, apparently, already moved in, claiming the bed in the far corner near the eaves. She sets her suitcase down on the plush mattress, arms sighing at the relief, and lays her coat on the bed next to it.

"You're rooming with Megan. I think she's socializing at the moment, but she'll be around. Now let's go say goodbye to your mom, huh?"

Back down the stairs they go and Quinn finds her mother waiting in the entry way, smiling harder than ever. After a kiss and a hug goodbye and a whispered "_Good luck I love you try your best," _she disappears out the door and Quinn is alone.

"I need to wait for the rest of the girls to arrive, but why don't you head into the living room and meet some of the others?" Laura smiles and pats her on the back, "I'm so glad you came, Quinn."

It feels strangely personal, yet not so unwelcome. Taking a deep breath, she heads into the living room to meet her fate.

There are four girls lounging on couches in the well lit room. None of them look out of the ordinary. They could've been yanked off the street anywhere. They don't wear some burning mark that says "I gave my child away." They look normal. She can't remember the last time she was somewhere she was normal.

"Hey," a redhead speaks up first, waving, "Good to see the party's multiplying. I'm Jen."

"Hi. I'm Quinn," she says softly, seating herself next to a brunette with an eyebrow piercing.

"That means you're my roommate!" the girl next to her pipes up, "I'm Megan, as I'm sure they told you. That one over there's Bridgette, but she doesn't talk much."

Megan gestures to a young girl, only fifteen at most, curled up in the corner with a book.

"Tally," a tall, athletic blonde introduces herself, sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Jen, "I love your dress."

They're friendly, and conversation continues to buzz as more and more women arrive throughout the next hour. She finds herself at ease with them, and likes Megan so far well enough. No one brings up why they're here. It might as well be a day at the mall.

Once everyone's arrived, the counselors call everyone together. She sits with her knees pressed together, looking up at Laura. There's twelve of them, plus four counselors. That means one counselor to every three girls. Even numbers are always divisible by two. Math is reliable like that, unlike so many other parts of life.

"I'd like to welcome you all to this retreat, and to congratulate you on having the courage to come. Many women never have the strength to talk about this," she smiles. Quinn isn't sure if she wants to talk about anything, especially in front of everyone, "Why don't we go around and say a little about ourselves? First, I'm Laura. I've been running this retreat for eleven years. When I was twenty-one, I gave up my son Josh, and I love to horseback ride!"

The speech goes around and Quinn listens to the girls she's just met tell their stories. Jen gave up her baby seven years ago and is finally willing to talk about it. Bridgette's parents forced her to give her daughter away. Another girl gave away her daughter because she couldn't afford her.

"I'm Megan. I'm nineteen, and last year I gave my daughter, Aubrey, away to a family in Michigan. I've gotten a few pictures but I've never visited her," she looks at Quinn, expectant to continue.

"I'm Quinn," she swallows nervously, "I'm seventeen. A year and a half ago I gave my daughter, Beth, away. We had an open adoption, but we didn't communicate… until her mother moved to my hometown and started teaching at my high school this year."

No one says anything. No one laughs, like she was expecting. The speech moves on. She sits quietly until it's over.

"Thank you all for sharing," Laura finishes, "I hope we can come to know each other better through smaller group sessions and activities. For now, everyone can have some time until dinner to get to know each other. Food's served at six sharp!"

…

Quinn finds herself retreating to her room with Megan, unpacking her things as the sun sets behind the fields. Megan talks endlessly about college and about her boyfriend, pausing to take a breath, it seems, between every other paragraph. She smiles when Quinn places a framed picture of her, Beth, and Puck on her dresser.

"She's cute, and so is he! You still together?"

"Something like that."

"My ex was a total asshole about it. Walked away the minute he found out," she pulls a photo of a grinning one year old out of her duffel bag, "That's Aubrey."

"Cute," Quinn smiles, shutting the last drawer and sitting down on her bed, "Do you ever get to see her?"

"No…" Megan's smile fades a bit before she cheers up again, "What about you?"

"I did for a little while, but… not anymore."

"Well, we've got plenty of time for the sad shit, right? That's what all that talking downstairs is for. For now, let's just have fun!"

At that she leaps up, running out the door, "Get down to Tally's room for some truth or dare!"

Quinn smiles, softly pacing after her. It's going to be an interesting few days.

…

After dinner, they gather in smaller groups with their counselor. Quinn sits on a couch in the living room with Laura, Megan, and Bridgette. Apparently they'll be spending a lot of time together.

"So girls, I think we should start off by getting to know each other a little better. We'll have plenty of time to talk over the next few days," she smiles and looks expectantly at Quinn.

"Well, I'm Quinn, if you forgot. I'm from Lima. I used to be a cheerleader and won national championships twice before I got pregnant. Then I was kicked off the cheerleading squad, so I joined glee club. It's great."

"So you can sing?" Megan grins, "Awesome. I wish I could sing."

"What about you, Megan?" Laura asks.

"I'm a swimmer. I set five high school records and three college ones so far. I'm a sophomore at OSU, but I'm thinking about transferring to another school."

"Bridgette?"

The small girl looks up from her perch on the edge of the arm of the couch, blinking her round blue eyes, "I'm a freshman at Thurston. I had my daughter three months ago. My parents… wanted me to give her away or they'd kick me out, so I did. I don't even know her name or where she is."

"At least they let you stay at home," Quinn bites, too quickly. Laura turns her head.

"Why would you say that?"

"… my parents found out I was pregnant five months in. They're super religious, perfectionists, all that. They kicked me out. I lived with my boyfriend until he found out the baby wasn't his… then I lived with the baby's father, and then I moved in with a friend."

"Do you still not live at home?"

"No, my mom kicked my dad out after she found out he was cheating. She let me come back. She wanted me to keep the baby, actually."

"Your parent's actions must've made you feel very alone."

"I guess so."

"That would suck to be homeless _and_ pregnant," Megan says softly, "I couldn't do it. My parents weren't happy, but they still supported me. You must've felt like a total fuck-up for letting them down."

That sounds about right. Not only did she ditch all her values, but she betrayed her religion and her father's reining fist. She went against everything she was supposed to be – her reputation, her prayer, her perfection.

She smiles a little, "That sums it up pretty well."

"Do you and your parents talk about what happened?"

"No. We sort of deal with things by just… sweeping them under the rug. I haven't spoken to my dad in a year. He can't even look at me."

"Do you think maybe since you never talked about giving your child away, you still aren't dealing with it?" Laura prods gently, "Often when we push things away, we're really not dealing with them at all. We're just shoving everything deep down inside until all that emotion causes us to act out. Have you experienced any frustrations or erratic behavior, maybe?"

She sees herself slipping back into her Cheerios uniform and pretending she was the exact same person as she was sophomore year. Kissing Finn like she was somehow innocent again, scrubbed clean. Throwing her heart and soul into winning prom queen because she didn't have anything else. She'd lost everything else.

She sees herself stopping at the drugstore on a whim and grabbing a box of neon pink hair dye. Buying ever piece of black denim she can find in the thrift store. Convincing her mother to sign the slip to get her nose pierced. Shoving freshmen into toilets.

She sees herself bleaching her hair. Planting suspicious items in Shelby's house. Beth's face. Puck's smile. The picture of them she cried over for hours. The way his skin felt under her hands as they laid there all night, as he told her he slept with Shelby. The red lipstick staining her thumb as she bit down, realizing she'd never get anything back.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Well, maybe tomorrow. Right now, it's time to get ready for bed."

…

The house quiets down around ten. Quinn lies in bed with the lights out underneath the purple quilt, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you awake, Quinn?"

"Yes," she whispers, propping her head up on her elbow to look at Megan.

"Your dad's an asshole."

She chuckles softly, but Megan continues: "I mean it. You shouldn't have to put up with shit like that."

"Well… thanks."

"My boyfriend left me, so I kind of get it… did her dad at least support you?"

"Yeah. He was good. We're still friends… I'm the one who pushed him away, after we gave her up…"

"So did the lady who adopted her really just show back up and barge into your life?"

"Well she started teaching at my school and wanted me to be a part of Beth's life, but I had to get my act together. I was going through a… phase, I guess. Rebelling, after trying to be perfect for so long, I think. She let Puck, Beth's dad, see her but not me."

"So she just showed up again and threw her in your face like that? What a bitch! How would she feel if you dangled her daughter in front of her nose?"

She can't help but smile a little, thinking of Rachel, "She only wanted what was best for her…"

"Yeah, well sometimes you have to think about what's best for you. That's why I came here. To try to dig through all this shit."

"Yeah…"

"Why'd you come? To deal with that?"

"I just… I was going crazy. Like, maybe for real. I… I tried to take her back."

"How?"

"I was going to frame Shelby to prove she was an unfit mom so I could have Beth back… I was going to tell the cops that she slept with Puck…"

"Whoa, whoa, the bitch and the douche slept together?"

"They're not-"

"No, that's just fucked up! I can see why you'd be upset… but, you know they wouldn't have given her to you, right? They would've put her in foster care."

"I know, I just… I was desperate… I missed her."

They lay there in the dark, breathing. She still misses her.

"I know," Megan breathes, turning over to face the wall, "And it hurts more than anything… to miss someone who's not even yours."

Quinn falls asleep with the words in her head. She couldn't have said it better herself. Maybe this won't be so bad. It's nice to be surrounded by people who feel the same way. People who really do understand.

…

The sunlight wakes her up around seven, and she rolls over to see Megan sound asleep. The whole house is eerily quiet. Breakfast isn't until eight. The majority of them are young girls who are used to sleeping in every chance they get.

She doubts she'll be able to fall back asleep, so Quinn changes into a floral print dress with a cardigan and warm tights and heads downstairs.

The living room is empty. She browses the large bookshelf in the corner. It's full of encyclopedias and nonfiction memoirs and biographies of presidents. The clock on the wall ticks in the corner. Her finger runs along the edge of the shelf, creating a line in the dust.

"Oh, hi," she jumps at another voice and spins around to see Jen standing there in her pajamas, "I didn't think anyone else was awake."

"I'm used to waking up early," she shrugs.

"Sorry if I scared you."

"No. It's fine."

Jen plops down on the couch while Quinn stands by the bookcase, fingers dragging across the woodwork. The redhead stares at her hands in her lap. She obviously a few years older. Could it really have been so long ago since she had her baby?

"Can I ask you a question?" Quinn asks softly, staying in the corner.

"Sure."

"If it's been seven years since you gave your baby away, why are you coming here now?"

"I got pregnant when I was fourteen," she sighs, shaking the hair out of her eyes, "We have an open adoption, but I didn't start to visit until I was eighteen. I just… never dealt with it. I didn't talk to anyone. I let everything build up inside me until I couldn't take it anymore, so I came here."

"But it's been so long…"

"If I've learned one thing, it's that pain never disappears if you ignore it; it keeps growing."

"I guess…"

"Be happy you're here and dealing with it, so you don't have to waste your life like I did."

Jen doesn't know about the time Quinn's already wasted or the mistakes she's made, but maybe that's for the best.

"I'm sorry. I just thought…"

"You wanted to grow up and have it all disappear? I tried. It doesn't work. You just keep looking for your baby in all the wrong places."

Everybody's searching, she realizes. They're the ones searching for someone they'll never have, sowing a wound that'll never close.

…

The day passes slowly at best. They participate in "group bonding" activities; they talk about their babies; a lot of people cry.

Quinn can't remember how to properly cry.

It's not like she's _opposed _to it or anything. She's cried in front of people many times in the past. If anything, she should be sick of crying. But somehow, she just can't feel it anymore.

Maybe she's been through the ringer so many times, she's just lost all feeling. Can that happen? Is it possible to lose the capacity to feel _anything_?

Bridgette's crying. She's sitting there, curled up in the crook of the couch, bawling about how her parents hate her. Her parents forced her to give away her baby or they'd disown her. She didn't have another choice and how she has nothing.

Really, it just makes Quinn angry. It makes her want to strangle this small, helpless girl, and she doesn't really know why.

"They're horrible," she sniffs, "They're awful and they hate me."

"They did that because they love you," Quinn finds herself rolling her eyes angrily, "They wanted what's best for you."

Bridgette glares at her, "What do you know?"

"At least they gave you an ultimatum. My dad set the egg timer when he kicked me out. I had fifteen minutes to pack up my whole life and get out. He hasn't talked to me since, even though I gave my baby away. Your parents love you, okay? They just have a crappy way of showing it."

"Quinn, don't you think you're minimizing Brigitte's experience right now?" Laura asks.

_Minimizing. _Making it seem like they're less important than her own. Right.

"Yeah. So?"

"That's not how we talk to each other."

"I'm sorry I'm just a little pissed that she got to keep her family, alright?"

Laura breathes out through her nose calmly, "You're angry. Tell us about your family."

"Short version? My parents are 'social drinkers.' Controlling, perfectionist father. Mom obeys his every whim. My older sister went to a Christian college, married a lawyer, and is _very happy_. Since the divorce, it's just my mom and me. We don't talk much."

"So you're the black sheep?"

"More like the lone fallen angel."

"Banished from Heaven?"

"Something like that."

"So they just cut you out?" Megan asks, "Completely?"

"My mom was only brave enough to stand up to my dad when she found out he was cheating. He couldn't claim to be so perfect anymore. She said she'd take me back about two minutes before my water broke."

"So they kicked you out," Bridgette says from her corner, "At least they took you back."

"I told you, my dad will _never_ take me back. And my mom never loved me enough to stop him from getting rid of me. She played right along until big brother wasn't looking over her shoulder anymore. She's pathetic. We're _all pathetic_."

"So did you give up your baby to erase everything that happened?" Laura interjects, "So your father might take you back? To fit into their mold again?"

"No. I wanted to give her a better life."

"But wasn't there a part of you who knew you couldn't raise a baby because it wasn't part of the plan they made for you?"

"_No. _I wanted her to grow up happy, okay? I know what it's like to grow up in that house. I don't want that for her. I don't want that for anyone's baby. I don't want her to feel like such a fucking _worthless mistake_ all the time…"

"Do you feel like a worthless mistake?"

The question hangs in the air, and it seems so simple to her. When _hasn't _she felt like a mistake? She's always had to try to be better for them, but her best was never good enough for anyone.

"I can't _compete_ with my family. I don't expect you to get it."

"You have to know your family doesn't define you anymore."

"Your family _always_ defines you. Especially when you let them down like I did."

"No. You made a poor decision and had unprotected sex. You got pregnant. You had a beautiful baby and gave her away so she could have a better life. _You got through it_ and came through as a stronger person. If anything, they should be extremely proud of you."

_Proud_? She highly doubts the Bible says he should be proud of her for her sins…

"My father will never be proud of me. No matter what I do…"

"Is your father really all that matters? Is a man who refuses to even speak to you because of one mistake really worth your time?"

"But he's my _dad_…"

"I know they say blood's thicker than water and all that, but sometimes it's better to sever ties with someone who can't respect and care for you, whether they're your father or not."

Maybe he let her down, but she let him down too. That's the kicker. He only asked that she kept her dresses clean and bows straight and did as he asked and never crossed the line…

But is that reasonable? Is that right? Who keeps their little girl from being happy for the sake of a reputation, and then deletes her from his life once she falls? Who keeps their silence up, their walls, even once the past is long gone and it's possible to try again?

In his eyes, sins are never purified. Her mother believes differently, apparently.

Quinn doesn't know what to believe anymore.

…

After the session, Laura hands her a notebook and a pen.

"I want you to write a letter to your father, your mother… anyone you're angry with."

"Excuse me?" _You want me to write what?_

"You don't have to send them. It's just good to get your feelings out."

"Do I have to share them or something?"

"Not if you don't want to. You're harboring a lot of anger, Quinn. You need to let it go."

She turns, notebook tucked under her arm, "_Right."_

…

That night before lights out, she stares at the blank notebook paper and pen, waiting for something to happen. For words to magically appear. Too bad she doesn't know any magic tricks.

Megan rolls over, marking her place in her book, "Someone's pissed."

"Huh?"

"It's written all over your face," she grins and gestures to the picture on Quinn's beside table, "Is it him?"

She looks at Puck's smiling face for a second before turning away, "He's part of it, I guess."

"How come? If he's an ass, there's no point in wasting your time on him."

Her response comes slowly: "Because he ruined my life and he doesn't even love me."

She isn't even sure if she believes that, because it's more her fault than his, and he has made an effort. Still. Why couldn't they just be normal? Why couldn't they have just slept together and had nothing come of it?

"Yeah, that's usually how it goes. Fucking's different than 'making love,' despite what the movies say."

"Yeah…"

"I don't even know where Aubrey's dad _is_, and that's a good thing."

"But you don't know where she is, either."

"No… but it's not like I should hang onto him just because he's part of her. That just doesn't make sense. If he's hurting you, just get rid of him."

"Actually, he's the one who suggested I come here."

"Really?"

The pamphlet's probably still on her bedside table, "Uh-huh… he said he wanted me to be happy again."

"Well. He doesn't sound so bad."

_Not so bad. _Not so bad, once you get past his air of douchebaggery, maybe. But he did try. She can't pretend he abandoned her or anything. He tried. She cut him out.

She cut him out. Just like her father cut her out.

"I don't know. We just… it's hard to talk to him."

"Without thinking about Beth?"

Beth, Finn, cheerleading, God, her old life, her family, his hands up her shirt, his hand holding hers, watching him play Super Mario Bros. for hours, all the times he slept with another girl, all the times he insulted her, all the times he came home to her and kissed her on the forehead, the times he made her laugh. He comes with baggage, memories that sting.

"I guess."

"Maybe… if you get past the pain, remembering will actually be good for you. For everyone."

"I just don't want to think about it."

"Yeah. Maybe you could write about that?"

"Maybe…"

She trails off, picking up the pen;

_Dear Puck… Noah…_

But there's nothing to say. She can't think of anything to put into actual words. She opts for a much easier letter, instead.

_Dear Dad,_

_Fuck you._

She shoves the notebook in her bedside drawer. She shoves it away, just like everything else, but somehow she feels just a little bit better. Somehow.

…

"I want to talk about denial," Laura crosses and uncrosses her legs. Quinn stares out the window, snow softly falling. Jen's sitting on the couch next to her, picking at her nail beds, "I asked the two of you to sit with me because you're struggling with similar emotions."

Neither of them says anything. They don't even look at each other.

"I think both of you are struggling with the fact that you gave your child away. You want to forget all about it so it will stop hurting."

"Who wants to be in pain all the time?" Jen asks quietly, "I mean, my baby's gone from my life. Why do we need to talk about it?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be happy. But if you don't walk through the grieving process, you'll never truly be happy. In order to let go, you have to accept your actions-"

"I've accepted it," Quinn says, voice cutting through the room, "I couldn't _stop _thinking about it. I couldn't forget. I still can't…"

"Then why are you still holding onto so much anger?"

She looks up. Anger. Why shouldn't she be angry? After everything everyone's put her through? Doesn't she have a right to be angry at her family and her friends and everyone? They didn't help her. No one ever helped her.

"Because they let me down."

"Who? Your father?"

"Everyone."

"When I was seventeen, I was angry," Jen mutters, "Everyone's so excited about parties and college and graduation, and all I had was an empty nest. All I knew was that my baby was gone and no one understood how I felt. They thought I should just get over it already."

That's all they want. They want her to sing at competitions. They want her to put a smile on her face and act the part. She had a baby almost two years ago – it shouldn't be a part of her life anymore. For a long time, she believed that. Until Beth came back.

"All they care about is their college acceptance letters," Quinn breathes, "And their prom dates and it's _meaningless. _I thought I could go back to that and be normal, but I can't. I can't be happy and carefree like the rest of them because I'm _different_."

"Of course. You had a child, and that should be acknowledged. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy without her."

"Everything just feels… empty."

"We're going to fill that emptiness, Quinn. It just takes time."

Laura smiles. Quinn sort of grimaces back.

"I just want to get better. To be happy, for once. I'm sick of thinking about her and feeling sad."

"Happiness isn't forgetting. Remembering her makes you strong."

"But it… hurts to remember."

"It doesn't have to."

"But I can't…"

I can't I can't I can't.

"You are right now, aren't you?"

"But it's… hard."

"If you keep talking, it won't be that way forever. Healing is a process."

Everything's a _process. _She's getting tired of waiting.

…

_Dear Mom, _

_You're a disappointment. You abandoned me the one time I needed you the most because I was ruining your perfect family. I wasn't what Daddy wanted. I was a disgrace._

_But I came through. You always taught me to be strong and to face my problems. I did that. I saw the pregnancy through and I gave Beth away to a better home. I hope her mother never leaves her like you left me._

_You took me back, after Daddy was gone, so I forgive you for your choices. I know how he is. I know he probably would've kicked you out too if you didn't agree with him, and you were just trying to do what was best. You still sent me checks to help pay for my doctor appointments. You still called on Christmas. But I don't know how to forgive you for not standing up to him when I needed you. For pretending I wasn't in trouble for as long as possible until everything blew up._

_I'm not angry with you anymore. I'm just hurt. You were supposed to love me unconditionally. With you and Daddy, it's all about conditions. Even for your own children._

…

In the afternoon, Megan drags her outside to the barn. Their feet crunch through the snow down a well-beaten path, tracing the footprints of others.

"You need to get out of the house and quit reading so many books," she whines, "Breathe fresh air."

"Fresh air?" Quinn raises an eyebrow, "Isn't this where all the girls come to smoke?"

"Well… there's plenty of air to go around."

The barn's thick wooden walls block the wind and the cold. It's fairly empty, save for some old, rusty tools, a ladder up to the hay loft, and a giant pile of hay sitting on the ground floor.

"What's _that _doing here?" she asks, cautiously standing at the bottom of the latter. Megan's already making her way up.

"I guess someone still farms the hay field out back of this house. Must be leftovers from the summer."

"Pretty big waste."

"More for us! Get up here already!"

She starts to climb, and when her head pokes over the top of the platform, she sees Megan, along with Bridgette, Tally, and a few other girls standing among the loft.

"What now?" she mutters, brushing the dust off her jacket.

"Now, we jump!"

"Are you _crazy_? We'll get killed!"

Megan cocks her head, "Well if you weren't curled up inside all this time, you'd know we've been doing it since we got here. It's not that far of a drop till you hit the hay."

"Far enough."

"I grew up on a farm," Tally smiles, "When they hay's high enough, it's totally fine."

She wonders just how high is high enough, and shakes her head, "I think I'll sit out this round."

"Your loss," Megan shrugs, and turns to Tally, standing on the edge.

Quinn sits down next to Bridgette, her back against the wall, picking at the straw pieces at her feet, "You not into jumping either?"

"I'm not much into fun…" she says softly, "Everything hurts too much to have fun."

The hurt becomes familiar. It lives in her stomach and twists at all the right moments. Before she locked it away, that hurt ruled Quinn's life. Of course she tried to make it go away anyway she could. No one could see her sad. It made her weak.

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

"Right, or do I not have a right to be sad, too?" Bridgette sneers.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I was just… jealous I guess."

"_Jealous _that I had to give my baby away?"

"No. Jealous that your parents love you."

"They don't love me," Bridgette says, "If they loved me, they'd let me keep my baby. They took that choice away from me."

"But they only wanted what's best for you. They wanted you to live your life as best you could-"

"I can't do that without her! How is this better? I'm miserable!"

"I don't know, but… at least they wanted something for you. My dad… he'll never speak to me again."

"Your mom loves you, right?"

Her mother used to braid her hair every Sunday morning before church. She would tuck her in at night when her father was too drunk to read her a bedtime story. Her mother took her shopping and taught her how to bake cookies and to pray on her knees. Her mother also taught her how to mix her father's favorite drinks, and just what God would do if she ever disobeyed the Lord or Daddy, but she taught her all the same. She didn't stop Daddy when he kicked her out, but she stood up to him eventually. Her mother took her back.

"I think so. She's just not so good at showing it."

"Well," Bridgette sighs, breath floating away in a white cloud, "Then it's not so bad after all."

…

_Dear Daddy,_

_You will never forgive me for making a mistake._

_I'll never forgive you for leaving me. I'll never forgive you for cutting me out of your life not just until I had my baby, but even after that. I'll never forgive you for everything you put me through._

_I love you. I hate you. I'm caught in between both of them._

_Maybe neither of them is what I'm looking for._

…

"What do you do on Mother's Day?"

Quinn looks up from her notebook, staring across the room at Megan, who's pulled her headphones off and is staring at Quinn.

"What do you mean?"

"Well. Do you think about Beth?"

She looks down, "Sometimes."

"I always think about Aubrey. It's usually a hard day. Everyone gives their mom something and I don't get anything…"

"I guess…" she says quietly, "I just don't know if I'm even a mom."

Megan sits up. Quinn can feel her eyes burning into her.

"You _are_ her mom, you know. People will tell you different. They'll say you gave her up, so you're not her mom… and you're not, but you are her mother. Her biological mother. Maybe you signed away your right to own her, but you'll never give away your right to love her, and no one can take that from you."

Everyone can take so many things away… but they can't take that?

She gave birth to her. She's her _mother._ It should be obvious.

…

_Dear Puck,_

…

"Are you still angry, Quinn?"

She looks up from her seat in the armchair, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"A little bit. It's gotten… easier."

"Have you been thinking about forgiveness at all?"

"I don't know. I've been writing letters."

"Really?" Laura smiles, "To who, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My mom. I think… I can forgive her. I'd already started to before I even came here, somewhat. It was just natural. I don't know how to forgive my dad…"

"Did you write him a letter?"

She nods, "Yeah. But I can't let it go yet… I still love him. I'll always love him. I mean, he's my dad. Except he hurt me a lot and I don't know…"

"That's okay. What your father put you through is inexcusable, you know that. The important thing is you're working on healing."

"I know."

"What about Beth's father?"

Puck. Just what about Puck. She doesn't know what to say to him.

"I don't think I'm really angry with him."

"But you have a lot to say?"

"Maybe," she picks at the threads coming loose from the cushion, "I don't know how to word it."

"I think it'd be good for you to try."

She's _been _trying. What else is there to do? Maybe it's better to just leave their past alone. But then, what use was it to come here?

"I will."

"Mostly, I want to know if you've forgiven yourself."

"For what?"

"For making a mistake. For 'ruining' your family. For giving your child away."

The better question is – does she deserve to be forgiven?

Since she was a little girl, she was taught that mistakes were unacceptable. Perfection was her goal. Even if she wasn't perfect, she'd better look the part. When it all came crashing down at her feet, she knew her life was over. She'd gone against everything she was. She wasn't herself anymore, or who she thought she was. She was someone else.

Someone better, maybe? Someone brand new?

"I don't know yet. It's a lot to process in three days."

"You're right about that," Laura says, shaking her head, "You're at least feeling better about yourself since coming here?"

For once, Quinn smiles.

"I am."

…

_Dear Puck,_

_I'm sorry for everything I've put you through._

_I know you wanted to keep Beth. You love her so much. I love her too, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't take care of her. Maybe we could've, together, but you never would've stopped sleeping with other girls and I never would've let you in, and we'd be miserable stuck in Lima for the rest of our lives._

_We have to believe it's better this way, because it's the only life we have._

_I'm sorry I pushed you away after she was born because I didn't want to talk about it. We both should've talked about it, together, and then maybe we wouldn't be so distant and messed up._

_I'm sorry I tried to take Beth back and I'm sorry I pressured you in any way. I was in a bad place, obviously. I was so desperate to have her back, the one thing I thought I needed after I couldn't stand the denial any longer, that I went crazy. Thank you for standing by me._

_We never were the perfect couple, if you could even call us a couple. But I know you loved me once upon a time. I loved you, too. Maybe that's gone now. But we can at least be friends, and we can at least share this pain._

_I miss her so much. We'll never stop missing her. That's the scary part. It's just another hole to fill._

…

It's their last night together at the retreat, and Megan brings Quinn up into the hay loft again, insisting the whole way it's perfectly safe and no one's gotten so much as a scratch yet, and how will Quinn ever live without knowing the feeling of leaping into the unknown-

"Okay, okay!" she shouts, playfully shoving Megan's arm, "I'll do it."

"Finally!"

She stands on the edge of the platform, staring down at the ground below. It's not too far of a drop, but it's enough to scare her. Enough to give her second thoughts. Enough to make it a risk.

But she's fallen so many times before, and she always manages to fall on her feet. Even if she doesn't, at least she stands back up again. Life's all about taking chances.

So she jumps. Quinn lets out a small squeal that's swallowed as she lands in the mountain of hay, pieces of straw sticking into hair and clothes. She smiles up at Megan, laughing, because she hasn't felt this free in a long time.

She's _free. _Finally. Maybe it's just one jump, and maybe it's just three days, but she's _free._

…

The next morning, she's packed and ready and said her goodbyes. Instead of her mother's car appearing over the hill, it's a familiar truck parking next to the front steps.

She steps out onto the porch as Puck climbs out of the truck to grab her bag.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your mom had an emergency meeting," he replies, shoving her bag in the backseat, "She's really sorry, but she thought it'd be okay if I was her replacement?"

"Sure," Quinn swallows, "I guess so."

She climbs in and buckles her seatbelt. The first few minutes are quiet, with only the bumps of the road breaking up the silence. Finally, he speaks.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Mad? Why?"

"For making you go. Was it terrible?"

"Actually, it was really… nice," she chuckles a little, "It helped a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I dealt with a lot of issues. I mean, it's not over yet. It'll never be over, but I feel _better_. Happy, even."

"That's good. Really good," he smiles, and she remembers how his smile hooked her years ago, not his smirk but his honest smile, "I'm proud of you."

Proud. He's proud. Someone's proud of _her_. Pride feels fantastic.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Hey. You deserve it."

The ride home isn't so silent after that. She isn't sure if she wants to date him again, or even be friends, but they're talking. They understand each other. He's there for her. Boyfriend or baby or not, he's there to support her.

Maybe that's all she needed, all along. That was what they needed. To talk. To laugh. Maybe even cry, though she's not sure she's ready for that yet.

But she needs him. She needs someone else who can help her dig through this grief, and he's the perfect candidate. They build this mess together and tore it down together. It's only fitting that they help each other through it, too.

She's ignored him for too long. She's _suffered _for too long. It's time to try, one more time.

…

_Dear Beth,_

_I love you. Never forget that. I let you go for the both of us._

_I miss you very much. I think about you every day, and I'll never stop thinking about you. You'll always be in my heart. I gave you up for adoption so you could be a part of a family who could take care of you and watch you grow. You can live to your fullest potential. With me, you couldn't do that. I'm still a kid, too._

_It's better this way, but it's not easy. It'll never be easy, but just remember it's worth it._

_Love, Quinn_

* * *

><p><em>I hope you liked it! This took me ages - explaining the mess the writers turned Quinn into is hard to get through. Thanks for reading!<em>


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